Book Review: 'Red Birds' by Mohammed Hanif

Book: RED BIRDS
Author: Mohammed Hanif
Publisher: Bloomsbury
Pages: 304
Price: Rs 599

Mohammed Hanif, award-winning author of the exceedingly engrossing A Case of Exploding Mangoes and Our Lady of Alice Bhatti, is a man of sharp wit and a political commentator extraordinaire. Readers who have loved the biting satire of these novels will be happy to know that with Red Birds, his third and latest novel, coming seven years after his last, Hanif does not disappoint.

One of our three protagonists – a disgruntled American pilot identified as Major Ellie – navigates life amidst an eternal desert and, subsequently, a refugee camp that should have ceased to exist had he bombed it like he was supposed to, and yet, is now his only chance at survival.

Then there are the everyday misadventures of Momo, a teenage dweller of said refugee camp, on a quest to find his MIA brother and become a millionaire. His antics has one empathising with him and sometimes chuckling at his misfortunes. Underneath the mischievous conspiracy that unveils is a masterfully crafted narrative of anarchy, one that, even in its most light-hearted quips, leaves you with a taste of the author’s distaste for the current war-riddled political landscape of the world. As a line in the book reads, “We used to have art for art’s sake; now we have war for the sake of war.”

The bleakest monologue in the introductory chapters belongs to Mutt, Momo’s misunderstood dog and Hanif’s third protagonist, whose character is a fine specimen of tragicomedy. Momo’s poetic soliloquy fills you with conflicting feelings of amusement and remorse. The dramatic narration of the grave injustice done to him will have you relishing every chapter featuring Mutt, especially prose, which is rather poetic and lyrical. Do not be fooled by his radical speech, for he is just as clever and deceitful an orator as Momo, his master; their bitter-sweet relationship takes centrestage in Mutt’s life.

No matter the context, Hanif’s stories are laced with the characteristic defiance that governed his previous books, and atheistic credo. What’s unique is how it is manifested across characters, common in their disdain for the almighty – God has left this land a long time ago. 

Momo, the prototype of a spirited Young Muslim Mind, never stops to mock the Western researchers that collect grief in war-torn countries as badges of honour, a sentimental version of the ‘White Man’s Burden’. Major Ellie’s struggles are pale in comparison to what we recognise to be a far more excruciating form of suffering at the hands of war. And yet, Hanif humanises all his characters, with flaws as blinding as the endless desert. Just as you find yourself in splits over a witty anecdote, Hanif serves up a cold commentary on the fundamental irony of first world citizens who set themselves up, with the intention of gaining social currency, as saviours of the ‘oppressed’ Islamic nations that their own countries have systematically destroyed through wars. His observations, veiled as side-notes, hit you square in the face.

Red Birds, a metaphor for the sorrow that consumes our protagonists, is a book that is as joyous in its beginnings as it is cathartic in its fruition – a godless, lawless land unfit for human lives that find meaning in a situation where there isn’t any. Without objectively portraying itself as a thriller, you can find yourself pleasantly startled if not surprised at many of the finer details of the novel, presented-a-la Hanif, in a very banal fashion. As if to say, well, is this not what you came for?